A Chance Encounter

Even years later, I remember the wind being sharp as a blade the day it all started for us. Heavy clouds hung oppressively in the atmosphere, accompanied by light snow that fit seamlessly with an already frigid February afternoon. The wind chill was nearly overpowering. The cold was there to greet me as soon as I left the comfort of my dorm room, fully prepared to tag along for as long as I was stupid enough to remain outside and within its grasp. Despite the weather, campus still managed to remain picturesque in its own right – with frost covered trees swaying, unblemished snow on the lawns where we tailgated during football season, and paved walkways slick with ice under a gray sky. Clusters of students were moving every which way, walking a bit more gingerly over unsalted sidewalks. A few braver souls even zoomed by on bikes, riding at a speed that I figured just about confirmed their insanity. I was about two minutes into my fifteen-minute trek, and the regret over not waiting for a nice heated bus was nearly palpable. My mood darkened as almost each step I took prompted an involuntary shudder and a quiet curse.

My surly mood wasn’t new; in fact, it had become a constant companion over the past few months. Only two years into my collegiate career, I had already reached the point where I honestly felt over the whole experience. It was all going to shit; The magic of being free from constant parental oversight had faded, I hadn’t really connected with anyone personally since my first roommate transferred, and last semester had been my worst by far in the classroom. The idea of leaving after this session had started coalescing over winter break, but to do what? The concept was hard to conceive, after years of treating a bachelor’s degree as an inevitability, having it drilled into me as a matter of course for as long as I could remember. In the end, imagining my mother’s disappointed silence was too much to consider.

Tutoring in general had been a suggestion from my academic advisor, but the private lesson that I was headed to was arranged of my own initiative. The session was on the other side of campus in a building - Anderson Hall - that I was only vaguely familiar with, and my tutor was an upperclassmen that I hadn’t even bothered to look up on social media. My optimism was minimal, to say the least. Alex, my roommate’s girlfriend, knew a girl in her dorm whose boyfriend had a friend that raved about tutoring offered by the student association. And with that stellar recommendation, here I was. All in all, I figured I had nothing to lose.

But the wind was making every plan except ‘curl up in my bed’ sound exceedingly stupid just about then. My hands were numb and ashen, and the cold had pierced through my light jacket and hoodie and seeped directly into my bones. Each time a bus rumbled past me down Felton Lane, I considered how lazy would it be really if I called it quits and waited at the nearest stop instead of hoofing it. I eyed a group of students walking ahead of me who had apparently decided to do just that, suddenly cutting their stride and hurriedly heading towards an enclosed bench at the stop ahead. I figured I would be better able to keep warm by staying in motion, so I gritted my teeth and cursed myself for being too cool for a thicker coat and pair of damn gloves.

This 'keep moving to stay warm' notion proved to be wholly false not even two minutes later. The next bus cruised by me with its familiar groans and hisses, and those all too recognizable sounds were the fleas that snapped the horse’s spine. The will to keep going on foot just about melted out of me, if melting was even possible while the wind’s keening howl rang in my ear and cut any exposed skin like a rusty knife. The next bus stop didn’t have an enclosure, and I half-heartedly weighed the merits of going back to the last stop just for a brief respite. I shook my head as I decided against it – my pride had its limits. I used my jacket sleeve to clear the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on the bench, sat down and tried to rub some feeling into my arms, teeth chattering audibly the entire time.

“You’re waiting for the 402 or the 410?”

I almost flinched as she spoke, her voice pitched louder so that I could make her out over the wind’s persistent whine. I had been so single-minded in my search for any kind of reprieve from the cold that I didn’t notice that someone was already waiting for a bus at the stop. Other than having to raise her voice, she didn’t seem discomfited by the miserable cold in the slightest. She leaned slightly on the green signpost that designated bus stops across campus, bundled in a white knee-length parka lined with fur. Her long hair spilled out of a warm looking beanie hat, framing what I noticed belatedly was an extraordinarily pretty face. Her light eyes were akin to a frozen pond – clear and serene, but with hidden depths that danced just out of my reach. It was a truly mesmerizing shade of blue, set over a small nose and full lips. They peered at him now with idle curiosity, her bearing like a bored tabby with a new ball of yarn. My breath caught.

“The 410,” I replied after a slightly awkward pause. “You?”

“The 402,” she said, still watching me bemusedly. I pretended the jolt of disappointment that raced through me was another reaction to the wind. “I’ve got bad news, then. The 410 just passed by, so it’s at least another ten minutes until the next one with the snow.”

“Well then. I’ll probably be a frozen corpse in about seven, so…” I said with an exaggerated shrug, turning to look towards where the next bus would come. My added theatrical sigh conjured both a visible mist and a truly endearing tinkling sound – she was laughing. A giggle really, but I counted it as a win. My sense of humor veered dark and landed flat with girls sometimes.

“Maybe you should have kept walking? You know, stay warm by staying in motion and all that.” She said this with a dismissive hand motion, underscoring her obvious disbelief in the sentiment.

“Yeah, tried that already,” I said with a wry smile. “And I learned a valuable lesson - It doesn’t work.” I added in a stage whisper, one hand covering my mouth as if imparting a guarded secret.

There it was again – her laugh was a lilting bell that rang melodious against the harsh backdrop of wind and snow. I shivered involuntarily again, but not quite sure if it was from the chill this time.

“You’re funny. But you really should get a heavier coat,” She said, holding her hand to her chin in faux seriousness. “When your teeth chatter like that, it throws off the delivery of your joke. Cadence is ninety percent of the battle,” she added sagely.

It was my turn to laugh, and I told her that I would take her advice into consideration, eliciting a soft smile. We exchanged names – hers setting off a ring of familiarity that I couldn’t immediately place. Two years in, campus now seemed absurdly small – everyone knew someone who knew someone, so it was not unlikely that her name could have come up in passing some time or the other. We were at the stop outside of McElroy Hall, where I learned that she lived as a residential advisor. I was rewarded with her tinkling laugh again as I commended her wisdom at immediately heading for the bus stop, while I trudged through the elements for five minutes like an idiot.

“So, once you become an upperclassmen, you just become immune to the seasons, I’m guessing?” I asked with smile. She returned it, and I took the opportunity to study her again. How could I not have noticed her before?

“Yeah, right before junior year starts, the seniors take everyone aside,” she said conspiratorially. “They show us the weather app on our phones. It takes some getting used to, but we start using to it tell if we should put on a coat or not.” Her tone was matter-of-fact all the while, and I twisted my face in feigned exasperation.

“That was some of the “delivery is ninety percent” stuff you were talking about, right?”

“Exactly. Keep practicing – becoming undeniably hilarious like me just doesn’t happen overnight,” she said, smiling confidently. The laugh I let out was unexpected.

Our easy banter eventually drifted towards a companionable silence that threatened to become awkward, and I felt like that onus was on me to continue the rapport before the 410 finally -

“Well, there’s my bus.” She noted, eyes darting behind me.

I heard the 410 bus’s accelerating rumble before I even turned around to verify her observation. The bus was moving slowly down the road, just becoming visible in the distance through the snow, which had starting to pour down a touch heavier. I had been so engrossed with her, I hadn’t noticed. I turned back to her to find that impenetrable stare upon me, expectant and waiting. I froze in place. Did I lay enough groundwork to outright ask her for her phone number? Maybe that would be a bit too forward – sure, talking to her was refreshing and she was funny, but maybe she was just wasting time until her bus showed up? I should probably just ask her for her Twitter handle, or just say something-

“So, where are you headed?” I blurted out. Her eyebrows furrowed – that obviously wasn’t the question she was expecting. I was stupid.

“I’m going to Anderson, I have a tutoring appointment. Well, I’m the tutor – but honestly, if this guy is even two minutes late, I’m going back to my room-”

“Wait, I’m headed to Anderson for a tutoring session, but I thought you took the 402? I’ve actually never been to the building.” It was my turn to be confused. This whole time, had I been -

“Wait, you’re my 4:30 for Stat 202?” She asked, her eyes widening with incredulity. “Are you kidding me, what are the odds?” The bus was pulling up now, its hissing and rumble almost lost in the sheer disbelief that briefly fogged my mind. I recovered quickly with a small smile that she returned.

“Well, I guess our bus is here. And what do you know, it’s been about seven minutes and I’m not dead,” I joked.

“That was better! Almost no stutter at all!”

Frozen ponds may have been an incorrect assessment, made in haste. Her eyes were filled with a mischievous light, crinkling with a warmth that made her look breathtaking. They were like the sky at the height of summer.

“You know, you would have been so late. I would have totally left and assigned you to another tutor. And we wouldn’t have met.” I just held her gaze with a grin, and when her lips turned upwards, I figured it was a sound decision.

We boarded the bus and its warmth embraced me like a long lost relative, but the relief from the weather wasn’t as stark as I had envisioned. I realized I hadn’t noticed the wind since I’d glimpsed her smile.